


the countess of bloodbrook

by pumpkinpaperweight



Series: filling in canon [3]
Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Gen, mentioned tagatha, post otk technically but idk what's gonna happen in otk so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpaperweight/pseuds/pumpkinpaperweight
Summary: “I know what Gertrude’s daughter is to you.” said Clytemnestra.Anadil’s jaw tightened. She’d expected her to, and yet...“...Yes.” said Anadil, still facing the door. “Most people do.”“You did not tell me.”“I wasn’t under the impression that you would care.” said Anadil. “Your own relationships have been… fraught with disaster.”Why would the woman who murdered her own husband have an interest in Anadil’s relationship with Hester?---after everything has settled down, anadil takes agatha and hester to make negotiations over dinner... with her mother. a look into what I imagine anadil's background could be like.
Relationships: Anadil/Hester (The School for Good and Evil)
Series: filling in canon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651123
Comments: 15
Kudos: 73





	the countess of bloodbrook

**Author's Note:**

> this is set about a year after OTK, but like,,, since I don't know wtf is gonna happen in otk (as of writing this there's 4 days to go) I kept the actual details as vague as I could. but no one's dead. is one of them gonna die? dunno. find out on tuesday. anyway here's my disclaimer for people who might come and read this after OTK:   
> I WROTE THIS BEFORE OTK  
> thank you shjfdkd

Anadil knew without looking that both Hester and Agatha were struggling.

Holding in a sigh, she shifted her gaze to her left and was immediately greeted with the sight of both of them staring at the spread of cutlery and glasses before them-- Agatha apprehensive, Hester irritated. 

_ Surely they teach you this at Good?  _ She thought impatiently. She'd been relying on Agatha being able to help Hester, but clearly that wasn't going to be the case.

Anadi’s mother did not deign to drop the cold, detached expression that she had passed on to her daughter, even when she spoke.

"So," Countess Clytemnestra of Bloodbrook said as the kitchen doors bashed open to bring out the first course, inclining her head towards Agatha. "This is a negotiation?"

It was testament to Agatha's practice as a diplomat over the last few months that she didn't scowl, like she usually would have when immediately called out. 

"I wouldn't call it that." She said slowly. "More of a discussion of the options that we have moving forward."

Clytemnestra ignored her protest. 

"What does your boy-King want with me? It must be important, if he's sent his lady love."

Agatha didn't smile, and Anadil applauded her internally. Dealing with Nevers, especially a Never as powerful as this, was very different to dealing with Evers. But Agatha had never been good at dealing with Evers in the first place. 

“You’ve been an effective bridge between Evers and Nevers for years.” said Agatha calmly, as some clear, grey-tinted soup is deposited in front of them. “You understand both, and you take customs from both. My husband would like to arrange a trade deal with the King of Bloodbrook, and--”

“You want me to be the go-between.” supplied the Countess quietly, lifting her spoon to her lips.

Agatha, who knew a cue to copy when she saw one, glanced at Anadil for guidance. Anadil picked up the correct spoon and Agatha copied her after a few beats. Hester matched them, slightly slower. The soup was one Anadil remembered well from her childhood-- slightly peppery. Nothing particularly special, not the finest dish they could have offered, but she couldn’t work out if it was meant to indicate to her that her mother disapproved of her choice to bring Agatha here, or if it was a wobbly attempt at making her feel welcome.

She and her mother had never been particularly affectionate.

“There’s a lot to gain from agreeing to it.” pointed out Hester, her first contribution so far. Clytemnestra’s red eyes swivelled towards her, and Anadil bit back a groan. 

Compared to Anadil, her mother, and the house, Hester looked particularly unkempt. Agatha had cleaned up decently-- at least, she was wearing an unstained dress and her crown-- but Hester was wearing a ragged old grey gown that Anadil suspected may have once belonged to her mother, and her hair was falling out of whatever attempt at an updo she’d forced it into. 

“What could we want to gain? Or need to gain?” asked the Countess softly, indicating the elaborate black wood and bone-edged dining hall they were sat in. “Camelot is destitute-- he can’t pay me anything significant, and why should I want favour from the Cowardly Lion?”

Agatha’s hand tightened on her spoon. Anadil closed her eyes briefly. She should have known they’d be like this. 

For as long as she can remember, her mother has been like this-- opulent and prideful. If the decor hadn’t mostly been made out of bones and there wasn’t a potions lab in the cellar, she’d have thought she was the worst type of Ever. Then again, most Evers tended not to try and set fire to charity representatives that came to the door as a fun post-breakfast game. 

Clytemnestra had always scorned the “typical” Never lifestyle, instead modelling her life on the opulence of the King of Ravenswood, who famously slept on a bed carved out of the diamonds that he’d ground his enemies’ ashes into. Her mother had abused her status as the White Witch’s daughter to get her all the way into the Bloodbrook King’s court, until she became his seneschal-- lurking behind him like a silent shadow, obeying his every command.

Except for when she didn’t. Irritating courtiers disappeared with just low enough frequency to make it look like an accident, and just high enough frequency to make all the other courtiers nervous. 

Probably all went the same way as her husband. 

An accident, obviously. Just a weak balcony and a drunken night out and a fifty foot drop to the sea below. All terrible accidents. 

She’d shed exactly two tears at the funeral, and her daughter had been born seven months later. 

He’d served his purpose, clearly. 

Anadil, not knowing any better, had walked into Evil with the same ramrod straight posture, folded hands, and blank expression as her mother, and had attached herself to the most powerful person she could find-- who just happened to be her roommate. Anadil had been perfectly satisfied with her catch, and had settled into her position as second in command with no particular qualms. But Evil had been something of a culture shock. The dirt, the chaos, the smells, the ragged uniform-- of course, she’d taken it all in her stride, and her face had shown no weakness, as she’d trained it not to, but she’d spent the first few nights awake, cursing her filthy, spineless classmates who lacked both ambition and poise. But after the first week, she was back to sleeping again, dreamless, motionless, hands by her sides. Hester had made fun of her, calling her Sleeping Beauty. Anadil had smiled coldly at her and said sleeping any other way was a recipe for being murdered in your bed. 

After that, Hester had ended up sleeping on her back, too, and Anadil’s influence was solidified. 

Of course, by now-- a year after their graduation-- she’d read the  _ Tale of Sophie and Agatha _ . All of their witchy little first year schemes had been credited as Hester’s. It made sense, since she’d presented them and bragged about them and generally made it so they were a proper  _ Never _ thing, but they weren’t  _ her  _ ideas. Even their Trial strategy had been Anadil’s doing. Hester would come, rant about a problem, kick a few bedposts, set something on fire, and Anadil would sit on the edge of her bed and plant an idea as to how to solve it. 

Of course, the Trial plan hadn’t worked, as she’d suspected it wouldn’t, but it was a good try.

She just hadn’t expected to  _ feel _ any particular way about it. Either Hester won, she lost, or she died. That was just how it was. Anadil didn’t  _ do _ feelings. She didn’t  _ feel  _ anything. That was her personality; not having one. 

But when she’d been sat on the filthy Malice 66 floor next to a comatose Hester, clutching a bowl of something she’d wished Hester had been able to help her brew, she’d felt rather a lot of things. 

Now, Hester is barely rattled;

“Funny,” said Hester dryly, “I wasn’t talking about Tedros. Don’t really care for him, to be honest. I was thinking about the publicity, actually.”

“The publicity.” said Clytemnestra blankly.

“Well,” said Hester. “Now everyone’s all chummy again, and Evers and Nevers have decided they should work closely in the future, it would set a good example if people saw you co-operating with both Camelot and Bloodbrook. It’d make you popular with both Evers and Nevers.”

“I cannot see that it would make me popular with Nevers.”

“Why not?” said Hester. “Camelot’s court has both Evers and Nevers. Their Queen was raised by a witch. And even the most cynical Nevers--”

“Like you.” muttered Agatha.

“--like me,” conceded Hester without missing a beat. “Can see the benefits of a connection with Camelot. If Agatha keeps up this  _ I’m not having children ‘til I’m nearly thirty  _ crusade, there’s a risk of another scuffle over the throne, and let’s face it, no one wants that. If they’re in a more stable position, there’s less risk of someone trying to bash Tedros’s head in.”

Clytemnestra looked at Agatha for her reaction.

“I said 26 at the youngest.” said Agatha blandly, “And she’s right. The King of Ravenswood has already come to Tedros to pledge his protection, because he’s so sick of Ever in-fighting.”

Anadil hid a smirk in her wine glass. Agatha and Hester might have been scruffy and foul-mouthed and bad-mannered, but they knew how to appeal to an audience. Her mother recognised the power of the King of Ravenswood, and often expressed the wish that she served him, not the “snivelling wimp” here in Bloodbrook. He had been first to come to Tedros, before even any of the Ever leaders, surrendering his pride in the way that a Never used to the years of storybook defeat at Rafal’s hands could do. 

“...what does your husband want with our King?” the Countess asked of Agatha as the second course-- snails-- were brought in. Anadil could tell she was already tempted by the idea, but was trying to remain inscrutable for the time being.

“Our lumber trade routes were redirected or sold off by the Mistral Sisters after Arthur’s death,” said Agatha. “We’ve been looking into the most efficient and beneficial methods for setting them back up again, and we’ve found that Bloodbrook would be a good place to start. You have excess in iron, we have excess in lumber, there’s no reason it wouldn’t be beneficial for both parties. We need to give people their jobs back.”

“And you think my King will care?”

“I was under the impression he wanted to rebuild the large swathes of his coastal towns that were destroyed by Japeth.” said Agatha coolly. “And his lumber reserves aren’t enough to do so.”

Clytemnestra pursed her lips. 

“Shouldn’t rebuilding be a priority for  _ you _ ?”

“If we’re offering you lumber, we’ve clearly got enough for ourselves.” said Agatha, amused.

“And we’ve already arranged a deal with Nupur Lala for stone from their quarries.”

Anadil knows they’ve got her, now. There’s no real reason for her to refuse. They just need to charm her into actually wanting to take it to the King as  _ their  _ proposition, not hers...

“We’re leaving Bloodbrook tomorrow.” said Anadil, speaking for the first time in a very long while. “I trust you’ll tell the King about Tedros’s preposition?”

Clytemnestra raised her eyebrows.

“Are you not staying, dear?”

“I’m going to Ravenswood.” said Anadil. “Hester and I have business there.” (They don’t. They’re going on holiday for a while.) “Agatha is returning to Camelot. But I imagine she’ll be in touch with the King in a few days.”

Give her an ultimatum and an expectation. Hopefully she won’t wriggle out. 

“Of course.” said the Countess calmly. “I shall take it to him tomorrow.”

But Anadil still suspected she might try and twist it, so they needed to spend the rest of dinner endearing themselves to her.

How tiresome. 

* * *

It was more effort than Anadil remembered. Maintaining polite conversation was such a pain. This was an Ever trait, and one she hated her mother for. She and her mother had usually spent most of Anadil’s childhood meals in silence, since Anadil had not known what to say and Clytemnestra had had nothing to say. They were talking politely enough, but the atmosphere was still distinctly frosty.

She glanced at Hester, who was watching the Countess with slightly lifted eyebrows. It seemed she was putting some pieces together as to why Anadil was the way she was. 

Wonderful.

Anadil straightened her posture even more and clenched her teeth. She’d not told her mother about Hester, but she assumed she knew. Anyway, how was she supposed to explain it in a way her mother would understand?  _ I cried myself to sleep after she nearly died in the second year Trial, even though I never cry.  _ Yes, her stone-hearted mother would understand that--

But her stone hearted mother looked rather as if she was close to smiling.

Bewildered, Anadil tuned into the conversation.

“--My mother used to make it,” Agatha was saying, pointing to the current dish-- some foie gras thing-- enthusiastically. “On special occasions.”

Yes, from what she’d heard of the woman, Anadil could imagine Callis manhandling some geese-- 

“I remember Callis,” said Clytemnestra suddenly, as if it was only just occurring to her. “Well, she was Professor Wardwell to us. She taught me Uglification in my first year at Evil.”

Agatha and Anadil looked at each other. Clearly, neither of them had known that. 

“... I’ve never met any of her old students.” said Agatha, looking faintly stunned. 

“Oh, no.” said Anadil’s mother, swilling the wine in her glass absently, looking with interest at Agatha. “You wouldn’t. Most of them have no idea where she went after she disappeared, but I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her name in your fairy tale. I knew immediately it had to be her. I looked at all the illustrations, but she didn’t look a thing like she used to.”

“She used magic to make herself look like me,” said Agatha. “So people wouldn’t ask questions.”

“Well, she did a very good job.” said Clytemnestra. “She was a very talented witch. Not a trace of beauty left.”

“ _ Mother.”  _ hissed Anadil, as Agatha adopted her usual attempt at a neutral expression, the same one she tried every time, even though her neck rash was betraying her embarrassment. Clytemnestra ignored her daughter, but she was eyeing Agatha with newfound approval.

“Yes, you have the same awkward posture.” she said, nodding slowly. “You slouch in the same way.”

Hester snorted. Then, judging from her pained expression a few seconds later, Agatha had kicked her. 

Anadil waited tensely. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, this almost sounded like--

“Well,” sniffed the Countess, after a pause. “At least Camelot has  _ one  _ Never sympathiser in their ranks.”

\--approval.

They’d done it. 

Anadil silently thanked whatever stars that had aligned to make  _ that  _ happen. 

Clytemnestra laid down her fork and looked a little happier. She didn’t smile, but then again, when did she?

“Shall we ring for coffee?”

* * *

By the end of the night, though, Anadil couldn’t say she’d enjoyed herself.

Whenever she was entertaining guests, her mother tended to ignore her, so she spent the remainder of the evening listening to Hester make fun of Agatha for various things. Not much different to usual, but sitting in the too-cold, too-large dining hall of her childhood, she found that she didn’t particularly like her mother being involved in this part of her life. 

At all. 

She was last out of the room, knowing full well that her mother sometimes liked to call her back, and aware it would be bad form to ignore her. Still, she’d hurried after Hester and Agatha as quickly as she could, trying to look as if she wasn’t rushing--

“Anadil.” said her mother calmly, still seated. “Stay, a moment.”

Anadil stopped. 

She gritted her teeth and waved a confused Hester and Agatha onwards, shutting the door behind them.

A beat. And then;

“I know what Gertrude’s daughter is to you.” said Clytemnestra.

Anadil’s jaw tightened. She’d expected her to, and yet...

“...Yes.” said Anadil, still facing the door. “Most people do.”

“You did not tell me.”

“I wasn’t under the impression that you would care.” said Anadil. “Your own relationships have been… fraught with disaster.”

Why would the woman who murdered her own husband have an interest in Anadil’s relationship with Hester?

“I care.” said Clytemnestra. 

Anadil turned towards her, surprised.

Her mother clasped her empty coffee cup, her white fingers nearly blending into the porcelain. 

“I didn’t speak to you much. At your graduation.”

_ I know,  _ thought Anadil,  _ I was aiming to enjoy it.  _ She’d spent most of the time hiding in the Good rose gardens with Beatrix and eating the swan they’d pilfered from the buffet. 

“I didn’t think you had much to say.” Anadil told her. “You were speaking with Ravan’s father.”

Her mother paused a minute. Then she snapped her fingers at the maid waiting by the kitchen door, who left without a word. Anadil watched her departure suspiciously, wondering what her mother wanted.

“I was pleasantly surprised by the company you brought, tonight.”

“I’d hoped you would be.”

There was a reason she’d only brought Agatha and Hester. She knew how to appeal to her mother, and it wasn’t with overly-earnest Tedros or cheery Dot. 

“I suppose your education at Evil wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

“Suppose it wasn’t.” said Anadil warily.

Clytemnestra was silent for a moment. 

“It is very quiet when you are not here.” she said. Then frowned, as if she was unsure about why she’d said that.

Anadil blinked. She barely talked at the best of times, and she had never been the type of child to gallivant around the halls.

“Oh.” she said, uncertain as how to respond. 

Her mother seemed unsure, too, which was very unusual, and fell silent again--

The servant re-entered, carrying a small brown box. She handed it to Clytemnestra, and backed away, leaving via the door to the kitchens.

Anadil blinked at it. There was straw poking through the lid and the sides, and an oddly familiar snuffling sound--

“I heard that some of your rats were killed.” said Clytemnestra, and held the box out to her. “I thought I should replace one, since I bought you the original three.”

Anadil took the box, shocked. She didn’t think her mother had even remembered that she’d bought the original rats for her. She’d often bought her random Never trinkets and left them with her without a care for whether Anadil actually used them or not. She’d assumed these had been the same.

She opened the lid, and, sure enough, another black rat peeked up at her, curious. Anadil held her hand out to it, letting it clamber into her palm, and looked at her mother, curious.

“Thank you.” she said.

Clytemnestra nodded, but didn’t say anything. 

Another pause. Her current rats were sticking their noses out of her pocket, sniffing at the new arrival. Anadil pushed them back down for now, gathering up the courage to ask if she could leave, and making a mental note to buy some treats on the way back to the boarding house they were staying at--

When her mother spoke again. 

“I told the King about your achievements at school.” she said. “And I discussed you at the court sometimes.”

Anadil raised her eyebrows, waiting for more, but nothing else came. 

If she didn’t know better, she’d say that was an admission of  _ pride. _

“...thank you.” she said again. “I didn’t know that.”

“No. I never felt it prudent to tell you.”

Of course.

“You are excused.” her mother added.

Anadil inclined her head, set her new rat back in its box, and turned back to the door--

Her hand was just on the handle when her mother blurted it out.

“You will come and visit Bloodbrook, won’t you? You’ll bring Hester?”

Anadil paused, staring at her hand on the door. She’d tried to hide it, but her mother had phrased it in the way so typical to her-- saying  _ Bloodbrook  _ when she really meant  _ me _ . 

There was a beat. Her new rat squeaked in its box.

Anadil looked back at her mother sitting alone in the great black wood hall. 

“Of course.” she said. 

Her mother smiled.

* * *

“What took you so long?” demanded Hester the second she reached them, from where she and Agatha were sitting on the edge of the garden planter filled with hemlock and nightshade. 

“She got me a new rat.” said Anadil. Agatha raised her eyebrows, but Hester was immediately interested.

“What? Let me see-- oh, look at his little yellow teeth,  _ hello-- _ ” Hester scooped the rat out of the box with a grin that would look more appropriate on the face of a wolf, but Anadil knew she was just excited. 

Agatha smiled vaguely at the squirming rodent, but she kept glancing at the path and Anadil knew she was anxious to get back. She’d become jumpy about leaving Tedros on his own, recently, after there had been several mutterings about assassinations on the outskirts of Albion. Anadil thought anyone trying to stick a knife in Tedros would have a hard time, given his inclination to getting into fights, but she couldn’t say she didn’t know the feeling.

She plucked the rat from Hester’s hands and set off for the path-- she could tell Hester was going to ask if Clytemnestra had said anything else, and she wasn’t feeling inclined to tell either of them what had been said. Not now, at least.

“Do you think it was a good idea, leaving Tedros with Dot?” asked Agatha anxiously, thankfully changing the topic just as Hester opened her mouth. 

“No.” chorused the witches together.

“Good to know you’re confident in the plan.” muttered Agatha.

“I heard Dot was going to try and convince him to let her paint his nails.” said Hester grimly. 

“That’s not… dangerous?”

“Didn’t say it was dangerous.” said Hester, as Anadil tucked the new rat into her pocket, where its new siblings sniffed curiously at it. “Said it was  _ bad _ .”

“You  _ scared  _ me, stop doing that--”

“Sorry that you’re paranoid, your highness, but we all know he’d just punt anyone who tried to attack him halfway across the Savage Sea. Nearly took my head off when I woke him up the other week--”

“I’m not  _ paranoid!”  _

“You are--”

“You’re so  _ cynical,  _ it’s natural to be wary--”

Anadil smirked, sauntering behind them as they argued, stroking her new rat’s head with one finger. 

Her relationship with her mother might be…  _ difficult,  _ but it seemed there was potential for that to change. Whether or not it would ever be  _ good  _ was doubtful, but tolerable was more than enough for her. And even if it was never quite right… well, at least she had her friends.

Then Hester tried to shove Agatha into a fountain and Agatha hit her with her crown, and Anadil scowled and went to separate them, like she always did. 

Maybe she just preferred rats to people. 

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha I named her clytemnestra bc clytemnestra... killed agamemnon... ahaha...  
> I miss my classics class :(   
> anyway I hope you enjoyed! did anyone notice my little dig at soman's take on anadil lmaooo.


End file.
